#like my ocd ranges from I need to wear the same shoes every day and lock and unlock the door 6 times exactly and wash my hands every 5 min

[rhysnolastname]

Ok im gonna say something but as someone with ocd maybe that’s why redeemed dark urge means so much 2 me

#like my ocd ranges from I need to wear the same shoes every day and lock and unlock the door 6 times exactly and wash my hands every 5 min #to awful things that I shouldn’t think and a morality problem #where I can’t lie or think a bad thought or I completely spiral #so maybe #there’s something there’s

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 13: On Your Left

Summary: Steve and Katie meet a new friend whilst out jogging, and Steve is sent on a mission to rescue a ship- the Lemurian Star…but it fast becomes apparent that not everyone on his team is pulling in the same direction.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: We jump forward a couple of months here and slip straight into the Winter Soldier storyline. Credit to @angrybirdcr​ for another lovely edit, and this re-post contains additional materiel- I’ve written the mission out instead of merely skipping over it.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 12 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 End of March/Beginning of April 2014

“Turn it off,” Katie’s voice was muffled from the pillow she had buried her face into as the alarm rang around the dark bedroom. Steve moved slightly to turn it off, but he wasn’t fast enough for his Girlfriend’s liking. “Steve!”

With a huff he leaned over and slapped the offending item with his palm, hitting the snooze button.

“Why is it even set?” She grumbled “It’s not like you don’t normally wake up at the crack of dawn anyway…and who uses an alarm clock when they have a phone?”

“You know, no one makes you stay here.” Steve teased, with a chuckle moving so that his front was pressed to her back.

“You’ve been away for five days, I never sleep as well when you’re not here.” She mimicked his line from the night before in a baby voice.

“And that’s why the alarm is set, because I do sleep better with you.” His arms circled her waist and he grinned to himself as despite the fact she was grumpy and tired she melted into his arms as he nuzzled at her neck, revelling in her smell, her warmth.

“Jerk.” She grumbled. “I mean what time is it anyway?” There was a pause as he continued to simply breathe her in and she glanced at her phone giving a scoff as she saw the ridiculous time on the screen “5:30? In the morning. Five. Thirty…”

“You said you wanted to go running.” He murmured, his eyes still closed.

“No, you said you were going running and I said I might tag along because I’ve eaten nothing but shit whilst I’ve been in New York, which, by the way is your fault…”

“My fault?” Steve laughed, cracking an eye open “I wasn’t even there.”

“Exactly” she muttered “No one to stop me.” “I wouldn’t stop you anyway. You’re a big girl, you make your own decisions…” “Big girl? You calling me fat?” she teased as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face his, just about making out his features in the dark room. He rolled his eyes, God she was a pain in the ass at times.

“Yeah, you’re huge.” he deadpanned, his hand travelling over her flat stomach and coming to rest on her hip. “Enormous.”

“Ok, well now that we’ve established I need to run, you know on account of me being a hippo, that still doesn’t answer the question why we have to go so damned early anyway. It’s not like we have to be anywhere…” “It’s less crowded.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s a ridiculous time.”

“Stop being a fucking brat!” Steve laughed and she huffed out breath again.

“I’m not being a brat, it’s just a stupid time to be getting up.”

“I love how full of sunshine and happiness you are in the morning.” Steve muttered as he dropped his head so his lips could gently trail a few lazy kisses down her neck before landing at her collarbone and giving a quick nip, his hand tightening on her hip.

She sighed, her body already starting to respond to his touch, the way it always did, betraying her. 

Damned him and his fucking bastard sex appeal.

“Okay, if you want to actually get up now…” She muttered, as his mouth travelled back up and she rolled her head back to give him access to the spot on her neck that drove her wild every time he found it.  “I suggest you stop.” “I hit the snooze button.” he muttered, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “We got about eight minutes left.”

“Eight minutes? You have a very high opinion of yourself.” Katie replied, tilting her head so she was looking at him, smirking.

Steve said nothing, just cocked a single, mischievous brow at her before his lips met hers, his hand running down from hip to thigh then across, parting her legs slightly. They were still naked from the night before, clothes strewn all over the apartment after he’d been so desperate to get his hands on her.

She moaned gently into his mouth as he slowly sank two fingers into her and her hips instantly bucked upwards, drawing a grin from his mouth. 

“Easy, Baby.” He whispered, his mouth returning to her neck.

Four minutes later she lay beneath him, a quivering wreck and he was right behind her, two shallow thrusts later as he tumbled over that edge with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he fell forward onto her. He smirked into her neck when she had finally regained her senses enough to quip that he’d beaten his best time by a full sixty seconds. And sixty seemed to be the flavour of the day as it was almost another sixty minutes before they got to his favoured running spot, the National Mal thanks to the fact it had taken Katie half an hour minutes to locate her running shoes which she’d eventually found in her car.  Steve had seized the opportunity, as always to lament her for the fact she was messy. 

“I’m not messy.” She scoffed indignantly as they walked the seven blocks. “I’m just not as OCD about everything being in its right place, all the time, like a neat-freak Soldier”

The good natured jibing had continued until they reached their destination and walked through the park to the reflecting pool

“How many laps did you do last time?” Katie asked, as Steve stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back.

“Six.” he said.

She looked at him, frowning. “That’s like what? Twenty miles?”

“Nearer twenty-two.” He grinned.  “You want me to keep your pace?”

She laughed “No way, you’ll just bitch at me for being slow.”

“I do not bitch…” “You bitch like a 14 year old girl.” Katie lamented, gently shoving him in his back. “Now go, go on!”

He smiled again, jogging backwards for a second before he set off at a rate of knots. Exercise always made him feel good. Running, boxing, sparring…fucking. Pushing away the dirty thoughts that had arisen to the forefront of his mind, he was quick to find a comfortable pace, his trainer clad feet slapping the concrete.

It didn’t take Katie long to find her rhythm either. Despite not being with SHIELD anymore she had kept her fitness training up, sparring three times a week with either Natasha or Steve in the local gym. She was technically still an Avenger after all, Tony having now fashioned her another Supernova suit which was basically a version of his latest Iron Man suit but in Silver and Blue, the Nova shaped star sported in the chest where the mini arc reactor powered it. She’d given it a trial run whilst she had been back in New York and was just as impressed with it now as she had been with the prototype he had blown up.

Her feet gently slapped the ground as she ran, the sun was rising on the last day of March and it was promising to be a sunny, bright spring morning.

"Hi.” A voice greeted her as another jogger she hadn’t seen before caught up with her and fell into step with her.

“Nice day for it!”  Katie smiled.

“You normally run this early?” He asked “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“That’s because I don’t normally run here!” She smiled “But I just spent 5 days in New York eating crap so…!”

He laughed and held out his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

She took it and gave it a shake. “Katie Stark.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sam grinned “I didn’t recognise you. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As Steve was about to lap Katie for the first time he noticed she was running with another jogger, a black man wearing a grey sweater with short, cropped hair. At one time this would have sparked the green eyed monster in his chest, but not now. Not only did he know she wouldn’t stand for it, but he knew she was just sociable in general. She would talk to anyone given the chance and moreover, she was his girl, he knew that. As he approached them he breathed out an “On your left.” as a warning as he sped past into his second lap.

Sam frowned, looking round and Katie smirked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as Steve’s frame whizzed off into the distance.

“I never tire of looking at these.” She commented a short while later as they rounded the monument.

Again the sound of heavy footsteps came. “On your left.”

“On your left.”

“Uh-huh. On my left. I got it.” Sam called after him as he entered his fifth lap.

Katie didn’t even try to stop herself this time and she laughed at the slight look of frustration on Sam’s face.

Not long after they were making a lap around the pool at the base of the memorial. Sam gritted his teeth at the wholly unwelcomed sound of footsteps behind him once again, he looked over his shoulder “Don’t say it. Don’t you say it!”

“On your left.”

“Come on!” Sam shouted and Steve allowed an amused smile to spread across his face.

Sam tried his hardest to pick up his speed to match that of Steve’s but failed miserably after only a few moments, now completely gassed out.

“Are you alright?” Katie asked laughing as she approached his hunched over figure, catching her own breath.

“Oh, here he comes…Superman himself…” Sam said gesturing to where Steve was now walking towards them, hands on his hips. He paused at his girl’s side and looked down at Sam.

“Need a medic?” he teased.

“I need a new set of lungs.” Sam chuckled breathlessly. “Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

“Guess I got a late start.” He shrugged, shooting Katie a pointed look. She responded with her best innocent stare, batting her eyelids at him. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to the stranger who began to talk again.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” He scolded jokingly. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve smiled, he couldn’t help but like this man. As he looked at him, he noticed the military symbol on his grey sweater.

“What unit were you with?” Steve asked changing the subject and motioning to the man’s shirt.

“Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I’m working down at the VA. Sam Wilson.” He said motioning for help up.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve held out his hand and pulled Sam to his feet.

“I kind of put that together.” Sam said as he tried to catch his balance. “Must have freaked you out, coming round after the whole defrosting thing.”

“It takes some getting used to. But I’ve had help.” He smiled, looking at Katie who grinned back. “Good to meet you Sam.”

“Yeah, bye Sam!” Katie smiled as Steve gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her away.

"It’s your bed right?” Sam called out from behind him.

Steve paused and they both turned back around. “What’s that?”

“Your bed, it’s too soft.” Sam went on to explain. “When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground and use rocks as pillows. Like cavemen. Now I’m back home, in my own bed, feels like-”

Steve cut him off. “Like lying on a marshmallow, feels like I’m gonna sink right to the floor.”

"How long?” He asked Sam

“Two tours.” Sam responded. “You must miss the good old days huh?”

“Well, things aren’t so bad.” He folded his arms, taking a quick glance at Katie who raised her eyebrow at him, teasingly. “Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio that’s good.” He paused before making a gesture with his hand. “Internet so helpful, I’ve been reading that a lot tryna’ catch up.”

Sam nodded and then moved his right hand from where it had been folder across his chest and held it, fingers extended. “Marvin Gaye, 1972, ‘Troubleman’ soundtrack.” He said, returning his arm to its resting position “Everything you’ve missed jammed into one album.”

“Ohhh man!” Katie groaned “I love that film.”

Steve nodded, smiling and pulled out the notebook she had bought him the previous year, “I’ll put it on the list.”

“We can download it later.” Katie offered. Steve smiled as he closed his book before he reached into his other pocket for his phone which was going off. It was Natasha.

'Mission Alert. Extraction imminent. Meet you at the curb :)’

He showed the message to Katie who read it whilst he looked over at Sam.

“Well Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that’s what you wanna call running.” He joked extending his hand.

“Oh that’s how it is?” Sam says amused shaking the offered hand.

“That’s how it is.” Steve responded, laughing slightly.

“Okay, anytime you two wanna stop by the VA. Make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve said as Natasha pulled up in her black chevvy sports car.

“Hey guys, anyone know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.” She quipped.

“Hey Nat!” Katie waved at her and she nodded whilst Steve simply shook his head.

“That’s hilarious.” He commented dryly as he turned to Katie. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” She took a deep breath. “Be careful.” She instructed as she leaned up to give him a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve made his way to the car, opened the passenger side of the car and dropped into the seat.

“How you doing?” Sam called with a smile as he squat down to get a better view of both Natasha and the car.

“Hey.” She responded with a small smile.

“Can’t run everywhere.” Steve joked smugly, looking back at the man.

“No you can’t.” Sam chuckled and Steve shot one last look at Katie who waved as Natasha surged the car forward.

Katie watched them go before she turned to Sam.

“Military girlfriend huh?” He teased and she laughed.

“Something like that.” “Fancy a coffee?” Sam nodded to one of the stands parked over on the square and she smiled.

“Sure, why not?”

Sam insisted on paying, despite Katie’s protests and they took their coffees over to a bench, sitting down in the early morning sun. As they talked, Katie fast realised she really liked this man, and he was pretty damned interesting too. He told Katie about his time serving in Afghanistan and how he had chosen, post the loss of his partner, Riley, to leave active service and focus his attention on helping others through work at the VA.

Katie had never really dug into the VA much, but it seemed like it did some pretty good work, helping those Soldiers who needed help adjusting to life post discharges for medical or mental health reasons. Sam confided in her that the DC branch was under threat due to lack of funding, and she made a mental note to speak to Tony about it being something that maybe the Stark Relief fund could look into partnering.

When they both realised they had been sat on the bench chatting for almost an hour and a half the pair of them both, knowing they had other places to be, exchanged numbers and she promised to pass his onto Steve.

The rest of her day went pretty quick, in a flourish of telephone conferences and various other ad-hoc emails to deal with, talking to the editors and Business Development team about potential authors to target. By the time she logged off for the evening it was gone eight. She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at the photos that decorated her office, her eyes being drawn to the one on the shelf of herself and Steve which had been taken at the New Years Eve gala last year. 

Picking up her phone she debated texting him, but she knew better than to bother him. From personal experience, STRIKE missions were heavy going. Instead she decided she was going to break with their usual routine whereby he would come to hers if it wasn’t too late post mission, and she was going to wait for him at his.

******

 “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star.” Rumlow spoke, moving images along a screen as they all stood watching as the jet flew over the Indian ocean. “They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asked.

“A billion and a half.”

“Why so steep?” Steve asked, frowning. That wasn’t so much steep as fucking vertical.

“Because it SHIELD’s.” Rumlow replied and Steve took a deep breath.

“So it’s not off-course, its trespassing.” He said exasperatedly, turning to his left and looking at Natasha.

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” She met his eyes, her face not faltering for a second.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.” Steve raised his eyebrows as she looked back at the screen.

“Relax.” She drawled. “It’s not that complicated”

“How many pirates?” Steve looked back at Rumlow.

“Twenty-five.” he replied, once more swiping at the screen. “Top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc” he pulled up a photo of Batroc on the monitor. “Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.”

“Hostages?” Steve pressed.

“Uh…mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” Rumlow flashed up Sitwell’s photo and Steve shifted slightly “They’re in the galley.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” He queried, an air of frustration in his tone as he pulled on his gloves before he took a breath and issued his instructions without waiting for an answer. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep up after, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow nodded to his team and they all began to bustle around the jet.

Steve moved towards the back, checking his ear piece, raising his wrist communicator to his mouth. “Secure channel seven.”

“Seven secure.” Nat picked up a few more bits of equipment from the shelves, passing a coms device to Evans as Steve walked behind her to the ramp. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, seeing as all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, I had to settle for a movie and pizza with my girl.” He shrugged as he fit his ear piece, a smile tugging at his face. “Yeah, it was fun.”

Natasha grinned and Evans gave a chuckle as the pilot spoke into his ear. “Coming up by the drop zone, Cap.”

Steve punched the button to lower the ramp before he grabbed his helmet.

“You know, I think it’s cute. You’re like a regular, normal couple.”  Evans said, and Steve turned to him as he fastened the straps on his helmet.

“That’s because we are normal.” He replied, a little louder as the noise of the air blowing through the ramp surrounded them. Steve grabbed his shield and swung it onto his back, the irony of his statement making him smile even more as he walked towards the end of the ramp.

“Yeah, because most people do this type of stuff for a living.” Natasha shot after him and he turned to face her, smirking.

“Well, at least it doesn’t get boring.” He grinned, before he threw himself off the jet.

“Was he wearing a parachute?” Rollins turned to Rumlow who gave a huff of a smile.

“No. No, he wasn’t.”

Steve held his arms and hands out to the side of himself as he was free falling through the air, before he shifted, straightening his legs out below him and crossing his arms over his chest. He speared straight into the ice cold water below and, after a moment to adjust, he started swimming toward the ship, using the anchor chain to climb up onto the deck. He dropped silently over the railings and grabbed the guard who had walked past seconds before in a choke hold, rendering him unconscious as noiselessly as he could. Then he set off at a sprint and it wasn’t long before he encountered two more of the pirates. Using his shield he hit the first one and took him down then sent the vibranium weapon flying once more where it ricocheted off the hull of the boat and took down the second. He caught it and continued running around the side of the deck where he encountered another three. The first one he dispatched with a harsh kick, taking the others down with a quick leg swipe and a harsh punch to the face. The next one he saw wasn’t looking so Steve sped up and used his momentum to shoulder barge him over the side of the ship, before he launched at the next one, taking him down with a swinging choke hold. The one after had a knife, which was slightly more inconvenient, but Steve managed to disarm him and used the dagger he now had possession of to pin one of the other guards hands to the wall as he was reaching up to hit the alarm button, before knocking him out with a kick to the head.

That was how it went for the most of it. Steve ran the entire deck, taking everyone down using his shield, arms, legs, body, any means he had before anyone could raise the alarm. And he was almost home and dry, until he dispatched of what he thought was the final merc, until as he caught his shield, he heard the click of a gun right behind his head.

“Bouge pas!” The man spoke and Steve tilted his head slightly to glance at the man in his peripheral, understanding the words to mean don’t move. So he didn’t, especially not as he had just spotted Rumlow drifting down towards the deck. The STRIKE leader shot at the pirate, taking him down and landed a few feet away.

“Thanks.” Steve nodded to him.

“Yeah. You seemed pretty helpless without me.” Rumlow joked and Steve turned to see Natasha and Evans parachute down onto the deck to join them.

“So you know you said before about things not getting boring?” Natasha asked as they strode across the deck, Steve slinging his shield onto his back. “If you ever need any tips on how to keep it from getting boring in the bedroom, just ask.”

Steve shook his head and let out a groan.

“When you gonna ask her to move in with you?” Nat continued.

“Secure the engine room, then we can talk about my sex life and living arrangements.” Steve deadpanned back

“I’m multitasking” Nat sing-songed as she effortlessly hopped over a set of railings, disappearing onto the lower part of the deck.

Steve set off at a run, vaulting up a few steps, using railings to swing himself onto the higher level of the ship before he stopped just below the bridge, shooting one of Lawson’s listening devices at the windows. He listened in as Batroc instructed his men to fire the engines and then Steve retreated to a spot where he could see Batroc clearly through the window of the control bridge. Crouching down he continued to listen into their conversation, easily able to understand the French they were speaking, one of his many skills picked up in the war. It had come easy post the serum, as with everything it had enhanced his ability to memorise and grasp things like that.

Batroc was being informed by one of his officers about the radio silence from SHIELD and Steve watched carefully before Evans’ voice cut across the jabbers of French.

“Targets acquired”

“STRIKE in position” Rumlow replied.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” Steve whispered into his wrist coms, but there was no reply. “Status, Natasha?”

“Hang on!” She said loudly, and Steve waited as he heard a bit of a struggle before she spoke again twenty or so seconds later. “Engine room secure.”

That was it, they were clear to engage.

“On my mark” Steve whispered “Three. Two. One.”

With that he set off running towards the bridge, leaping up a small set off steps before he flung his shield through the window. He jumped in after it and Batroc caught him with a kick to the chest before sprinting off and kicking his way out of the door. Steve jumped up, wrenched his shield from where it had been wedged in the metal panels at the back of the control room and ran after him.

“Hostages on route to extraction.” Rumlow informed as Steve emerged onto the end of a set of steps. “Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap.” The STRIKE leader continued as Steve jumped down onto the main area of the deck. “Hostiles are still in play.”

Steve looked around before he turned on his heels and started walking “Natasha, Batroc’s on the move.” He instructed quietly into his coms. “Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.”

There was no reply, and Steve was starting to get pissed off at her radio silence.

“Natasha!”

But then, out of nowhere Batroc flew at him with another harsh kick which sent Steve flying, and no sooner had he righted himself, there came another. The two engaged, toe to toe, fists flying, legs kicking, arms blocking and Steve had to hand it to Batroc, even after he knocked him down with his shield, the man was quickly back on his feet. Steve aimed a knee to his gut and flipped him backwards only to see Batroc effortlessly fling himself into several back flips before landing on his feet a short distance away, smirking as he eyed Steve up.

“Je croyais que tu étais plus qu'un bouclier.” He chuckled slightly and Steve cocked his head to one side, chewing over the man’s words… I thought that you were more than just a shield.

The arrogance in Steve won out and he straightened up out of his attack stance. You wanna go, fucker? Fine. Let’s dance.

He took a breath, stashing his shield on the harness round his back, and undid his chin strap, pulling his helmet off. “On va voir.” He said simply, tossing it to the floor, his eyes not once leaving Batroc’s who gave a huge grin.

They dodged for a second or two before they began to fight once more, trading punches, kicks and a few more knees to the gut before Steve threw himself up into the air, twirling his body round into a huge over-head kick, connecting his boot straight with Batroc’s head. Batroc fell to the floor and soon staggered back to his feet, but Steve didn’t give him chance to recover properly. He ran at him, spearing them both through a door, and sitting up slighting, Steve knocked Batroc out with a huge punch to the head.

He took a moment to draw his breath when a voice rang out across the room.

“Well, this is awkward.”

He looked up to see Natasha smirking at him from where she was bent over a computer.

“What are you doing?” Steve demanded as he rose to his feet.

“Backing up the hard drive. It’s a good habit to get into.”  She retorted.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, happy Batroc was still out cold, before he strode purposefully towards her.

“Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?” He drew up behind her and glanced at the screens. As it registered what she was doing he shook his head in exasperation. “You’re saving SHIELD Intel.”

“Whatever I can get my hands on.” She drawled, still tapping at the computer as she looked at him, before turning back to the screen.

“Our mission is to rescue hostages.” Steve glared at her.

“No. That’s your mission.” Natasha corrected as she finished what she was doing and pulled the pen drive out of the slot. She turned towards him and smiled causing Steve’s anger to bubble even more. “And you’ve done it beautifully.” Her tone was almost patronising as she smirked, moving to pass him.

At that, Steve felt his temper snap and he grabbed her arm stopping her in her tracks. “You just jeopardized this whole operation.”

“I think that’s overstating things.” Natasha stated calmly but before Steve had time to reply a movement caught his attention. Batroc stood up and threw a grenade at the two of them as he ran off. Steve deflected the bomb with his shield before he grabbed Natasha round the waist and hopped up onto the desks. Jumping to another one, Natasha shot out one of the glass windows into an internal office and they dived in just as the bomb exploded.

Smoke, ash and debris rained down on them and Steve gave it a second before he looked over his shoulder and out before sitting back down to take a moment. He was beyond pissed off. Pissed at Natasha and pissed at Fury for not bothering to tell him the full story.

“Okay. That one’s on me.” Natasha breathed out.

“You’re damn right.” Steve grit his teeth and pushed himself up, storming out in anger. Of course, Batroc was nowhere to be found.

**** Steve was that angry about the cluster-fuck of a mission that he didn’t speak a word to Natasha all the way home and yes, he knew it was childish, but he was getting seriously pissed off at the secrets and lies that seemed to be part and parcel of any goddamned mission Fury sent him on. Once back at base he stormed off the jet, ignoring pretty much everyone and simply barking out that they would debrief in the morning.

It was just before midnight when he got home, and as he pulled his bike up into the designated space allotted for his apartment, he noticed Katie’s car was in one of the guest spaces that lined the street. He frowned slightly, she never normally waited at his for him. Not for any particular reason other than he normally spent the hours or so after a mission debriefing before heading home to decompress for a few hours and then if it wasn’t too late he would head to hers. But the more he thought about it now he realised that he had no idea why he did it that way. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what it was like being a SHIELD operative, or that he didn’t want her at his. 

Knowing that she was there made him smile for the first time since he’d left the Lemurian Star and, despite his various aches and bruises, he found himself taking the steps to his apartment three at a time, his eagerness to see her wiping all other thoughts from his mind.

She was on the couch, bare denim-short clad legs tucked underneath her, and she looked up from the TV as he walked into the living area and leaned in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight of her, hair tousled slightly from where she had been leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” He asked gently as she sat up.

“Decided I’d wait for you.” She shrugged “You complaining?” “Not at all.” He smiled, turning away as he unzipped his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar before he crossed the room.

“You had a good day?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She replied as he walked back into the lounge. “Vanity Fair have written the article already, if I’m happy with it tomorrow then it’s going to be published this month.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her tone. She was proud, and she had every right to be. So was he. Stark Independent Publishing LTD had taken off like a rocket and the glossy magazines were queuing up to interview the youngest Stark prodigee. She had declined all of them until the board had suggested she do one interview for Vanity Fair, along with a photoshoot in her office. She’d reluctantly agreed, but had confided in Steve she’d actually kind of enjoyed it.

“That’s fast.” he said, heading back into the room.

“Yeah they’re really pushing for it.” She smiled as he dropped besides her with a groan, lifting her legs up so they crossed his lap. As he did so he jostled the bruised ribs and muscles he’d obtained on the Lemurian Star and let out a hiss, rubbing slightly at his torso. Katie spotted this, as always, and frowned, moving her legs so she was sat up, scooting over to where he was and gently tugged at his t-shirt. He didn’t stop her as she examined the large bruise over the side of his ribs and gently ran her fingers over it.

“Ouch.” She mumbled softly, looking up at him and then tilting his face round. He knew there was a small cut on his temple but other than that and the bruise to his side he was uninjured. “Is this it?”

He nodded.

“So how did you do it this time?”

“I got blown through a window.” Because that was a perfectly normal thing for Captain America to do, Katie merely rolled her eyes and dropped a kiss to his cheek as she stood up “I’ll get the arnica and fix you something to eat”

He loved this, the way she just wanted to take care of him, but he was aware of what time it was too, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to play the dutiful housewife.

“Kitten, you should go to bed, its late.” He grabbed her hand. “Once I’ve patched you up and fed you I will.” She shrugged stubbornly, tugging gently on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled up “Go take a shower, I’ll sort your dinner.”

This time he didn’t protest, simply smiled, dropped a kiss to her head and headed to the bathroom.

He stepped under the hot water cascading from the shower and let out a groan as it hit his body, allowing it temporarily to soothe his mind and his aches. He still couldn’t shake his annoyance at how the mission was gone. Suddenly, he was distracted by his stomach grumbling and he realised he was actually really hungry. He quickly washed off before cutting the water and stepping out, grabbing a towel. He could hear Katie in the kitchen as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom where he dried himself off and dressed in a pair of loose sweats and a grey T-shirt.

The smell of food hit his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen, making his mouth water. Her food was always good, he had no idea what he was in for tonight but he didn’t care. As he approached where she was stood, both his hands dropped to her hips and he placed a soft kiss on her neck, an easy sign of affection before he let out a heavy sigh and reached into the refrigerator.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” She asked, turning to look at him as he downed pretty much an entire bottle of water before he slumped down at the breakfast bar and explained everything to her. She listened, asked questions, shook her head, and when he reached the bit about the ransom she whistled slightly through her teeth, coming to the same conclusion he had when he heard the demand.

“That’s steep.” she frowned and Steve snorted.

“That’s what I said. Turns out its SHIELDS.“

The microwave finished and Katie moved to open the door, stirring whatever was in there before removing it and placing it down in front of him, along with a plate of his favourite bread. He was silent for a moment as he stirred the hot stew, Ghoulash, before taking a small mouthful to test the heat. Damned she could cook. He nodded appreciatively.

“It’s good.” “You sound surprised.”

“Behave.” He admonished, giving her a look. “You know what I think about your cooking.”

He continued to eat as she stood up and fished about in the cupboard he stored the bottle of Arnica gel she insisted he keep to hand. As he ate, she settled next to him and hitched his shirt up, gently and carefully applying the ointment to his side. The bruise extended from the middle of his rib cage to an inch or so beneath the band of his sweats.

It was relaxing, and he relished her touch and her gentle tone as she continued to talk.

“So did you get the hostages?”

“Yeah.” He nodded in between mouthfuls. “That bit was pretty easy all things considered.”

“So what’s wrong, love?”

She could tell there was more to his mood than what he had told her, and her instincts were proven right when he let out a soft sigh as she continued to rub at his side softly.

“I’m just annoyed Sweetheart.” He sighed eventually “At Fury, at Romanoff.”

“At Nat? Why?”

“She was running a separate mission, which meant the task I gave her to back Rumlow up with the hostages wasn’t done.”

“Fury?”

He nodded.

“More secrets” Katie sighed, feeling a flash of anger. “You know this is exactly why I got out…legacy or no legacy.”

“Tell me about it.” He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. “We were lucky no one was hurt, or worse. I mean, Rumlow was great, got everyone out but, Doll, how can I lead a team when half of them are lying to me?”

“Nat was just doing as she was told.” Katie spoke softly, trying to deal with each issue one at a time.

“Since when is retrieving Intel more important than people’s lives?”

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying don’t be so hard on her.” She reasoned, her fingers still tracing shapes on his skin. “She has a job to do, same as you. Its Fury you should be talking to about it.”

“Oh I intend to.” Steve snorted. “I’m going to go see him tomorrow morning after de-brief…”

“Well, at least you’ll get an explanation. I mean it might not be what you wanna hear but…”

She was right, of course. Pushing it from his mind, Steve concentrated on her touch as she was still gently rubbing his side. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and was disappointed when she finally finished and let his t-shirt fall down before she stood up to put the ointment away.

“You want any more to eat?” She asked, once she’d washed the arnica off her hands.

“Is there any?” He looked at her hopefully.

She smiled, nodding, and then gave a small yawn which she tried to stifle, but Steve noticed it.

“Okay, I’ll warm some more up and you’re gonna go to bed.” He said, standing up “And that’s an order.”

“Bossy bastard” She retorted. He replied simply with a raised an eyebrow and stern glare as he crossed towards her. She held her hands up, “Okay, I’m going…” She leaned up to kiss to his cheek.

“Won’t be long.” He smiled.

Steve had another bowl of food before he slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He turned off the lights, crossed into the dark bedroom and pulled off his T-shirt, sliding into bed behind Katie. His arm curled over her waist, surprise surprise she was in one of his shirts, which did nothing to ebb his growing desire and the twitching in his groin. Hoping she wasn’t asleep, his nose gently nuzzled at her neck, and he was pleased when she responded.

He needed this. Wanted this. Wanted her.

“When you told me to go to bed…” Katie sighed, as his lips gently started their assault on that spot, “I thought you meant to sleep.” “Want me to stop?” Steve practically purred into her neck.

“Didn’t say that.” She replied, rolling her head to catch his lips as his hand crept down her inner thigh. She let out a contented sigh and he smiled against the side of her neck as he traced his fingers over her hip, hand flattening as it crept down and round to the top of her panties, his fingers slipping inside, where he found her hot, wet, ready for him. It was enough to harden him completely as he started to gently tease her, causing her to groan at the pleasure, her back arching whilst his lips continued to kiss and caress her neck.

“Steve.” She moaned softly, her tone pleading. “I want you…”

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. Ever. 

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Please Stevie.” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to her. His hand moved up and he gripped at her hip, gently rolling her so she was lay on her back, using his leg to part hers. He guided his shirt over her head, pulled down her panties, before he stripped off his boxers, fingers lacing in between hers, as he crawled over her, pinning both hands above her head as he worked his way into her. They both groaned as he stretched her, and she looked up at him, those eyes locking onto his as he leant down to kiss her, starting up a slow, gentle pace. He moved slowly, again and again, lips caressing hers, then her jaw, then her neck, all the time his hands wrapped around hers, causing her to surrender to him completely.

He kept up that soft, gentle pace, loving her completely. He could tell she was close, he knew the signs well enough now and as she groaned in delight, tightening around him he coaxed her, “That’s it baby girl…” lips soft on her ear.

And then she came, shuddering underneath him, her head tipping back, as she let out a gentle, low, broken moan of his name. It sent shivers down his spine and he continued to thrust through her orgasm, the tale heat spreading across his belly and then he tipped too, jerking and groaning slightly before he fell forward, burying his face in to her neck.

“Love you.” She whispered softly into his ear as her hand ran up his neck, into his hair and he gave a hum of contentment as he regained control of his senses.

“Love you too, so damned much, Sweetheart.” He rubbed his nose up against hers and she chuckled slightly as he rolled off of her. She scooted closer so she could lay her head on his chest and his arm curled round her, large hand tracing shapes on her skin at the bottom of her back as she tossed her leg over his.

“What time are you in tomorrow?” She asked gently, hand rubbing absentmindedly over his chest.

“Half nine.” He gave a sated yawn.

“We can have breakfast together, I made cinnamon rolls.” She muttered through a yawn of her own.

“That so?” “mmmhmmm”

“You know, you’d make a good little housewife.” He grinned, thinking back to his thought before. He knew her response before she had uttered it. “Fuck you.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her head and they both fell silent. And his last thought as he drifted off to sleep was just how her being here had made him almost forget his worries.

Katie lay still, listening to the sound of his breathing which grew even as he fell asleep, clearly exhausted. He always needed food and rest after missions, his metabolism drained him. She stole a glance up at him, long eyelashes lay against his cheek as his head lolled to the side slightly, facing her.

“Night soldier.” She whispered softly, placing a peck on his lips before settling down and succumbing to her own tiredness. ********* Katie woke the next morning, tangled in Steve’s arms, his face pressed into her neck as he’d done his usual koala impression. As gently as she could, she moved to check her phone for the time, and found it to be twenty-five past seven, five minutes before her alarm was due to go off. Cancelling it, she glanced back over at Steve who shifted onto his back, the arm that had been thrown around her gently resting on his chest. Smiling, she climbed out of bed deciding to leave him to sleep as long as she could.

Considering what a light sleeper he normally was, Steve didn’t stir when Katie returned following her shower and was still out of it when she finished dressing so she unset the alarm on his bedside clock and headed to the kitchen. She put on a fresh pot of coffee, threw the fresh rolls she had made the previous day into the oven and settled down on his couch, flipping on the TV whilst she quickly scanned through her phone, looking at her schedule for the day. She only had one meeting in the afternoon, and it wasn’t important so she fired an email through to her PA asking her to reschedule.

At about eight-fifteen, there was still no sign of Steve so Katie headed through to the bedroom to wake him up. Any longer and he would be late for his debrief. He was lay side on, facing her side of the bed so she dropped next to him…

Something was tickling his nose, right on the bridge. He gently sniffed, and then soft lips met his. Again, again…Steve made a completely involuntary noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as he realised his girl was kissing him awake, before her lips met his and this time he gently responded.

“Hey.” That soft voice greeted him and he smiled, gently cracking an eye open and meeting that emerald green.

“Morning” He said groggily and she smiled.

“It’s almost eight-fifteen.”

He frowned, that was late. “My alarm didn’t wake me?” “I turned it off, sorry-not-sorry” She said with a tone so blasé it made him chuckle “You needed the rest.” She gave him a soft kiss again “There’s coffee in the kitchen and breakfast is ready.” “You know I could get used to this” He rolled over so he was on his back as she rose from the bed. “Coming home to a ready-made dinner, waking up to ready-made breakfast before I go to work. And you.” “Nice to see which one of those is your priority.” She teased over her shoulder as she left him to it.

“Always you, Doll.” he murmured with a smile. But as he lay still for another few minutes, he thought about it more and more. Over the past four months, other than when they were away either on missions or business trips they had spent every night together, either at his or hers but last night, something had felt different to him, more intimate. She’d taken care of his mission injuries, cooked for him, made love to him, and now here she was making him breakfast before she would wave him off to work later on. It was almost normal, what people with mundane nine to five jobs did. And he realised he wanted that all the time, he wanted to come home, find her there, wake up with her, every single day.

“When you gonna ask her to move in?” Natasha’s voice popped back into his head.

If he was honest, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought, it wasn’t something people did back in his time before marriage. But times were different, hell he was different, and as he lay there contemplating it, he realised, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

When he headed through, Katie was sat at the kitchen table, laptop fired up, mobile glued to her ear.

“I know!” Her tone was one of utter excitement. “I mean I didn’t think they would turn out so good…or they’d be done so fast but they’re pushing for this month’s edition…”

He dropped a kiss to her neck and glanced at the screen, pausing when he saw the image. It must have been one of the photos done whilst she was in New York and as he looked at it, he felt his mouth drop open. His girl was stood against a wall in her office in the tower, one leg bent, high heeled foot raised back against the flat surface behind her, palms splayed either side of her thighs as she looked to the right. Her hair was pulled back in a slick, high pony tail, her make-up was heavier than normal and utterly flawless, and she was dressed in a grey charcoal pinstripe suit which cinched in at her waist, with a low cut white blouse underneath.

“Yeah, I know Tony.” She continued speaking into the phone as she glanced up and saw the expression on his face. She pressed a button on the keyboard and it flipped to another picture, this one of her sat in her chair, legs apart, elbows resting on her knees, as she looked beyond the camera, laughing at something. She looked absolutely fucking stunning. His eyes roved the image on the digital copy of the article and he began to read the writing that was next to it.

There are a lot of things you might absolutely hate about Katie Stark. Aged just twenty-nine she has more money than anyone could possibly wish to spend in a life-time, looks and a figure that you would kill for, and a Super Soldier Boyfriend with a jawline that seems to be carved from marble. However, after thirty seconds in her company despite wanting to hate her for all of the above, it was simply impossible not to like her.

Unassuming, accommodating, and with a smile that you simply can’t help but return, she welcomed us into her office and was remarkably humble about the entire thing, admitting that she still wasn’t quite so sure why we were so interested in her. We took the time to grill her on how the first three months of Stark Independent Publishing LTD has gone and what we can look forward to in the future.

Katie stood up and gestured for him to sit down and carry on reading the article. She headed off into the living room, continuing her call, so he read as he ate a hot cinnamon bun. The article ploughed through a load of questions about the book that had launched the business when they published, the fact the company had already registered over fifty-percent first quarter turnover, where she thought the business was going, future pipeline projects, her favourite authors, genre, books, previous role in Stark Industries before she had spent a few years working for a Government Agency following the Battle of New York (no mention of Supernova or SHIELD) and then the final paragraph took a personal turn.

When asked if she would indulge us with a personal question she sighed slightly before grinning and telling us to ask and see if she answered. So we did…

“We know that you’re a notoriously private person, in comparison to your brother anyway, but most of our readers are dying to know…what’s it like dating Captain America?”

“No idea, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” She replied immediately, a faint flush hitting her cheeks as she spoke, all the time fiddling with a delicate yet gorgeous antique looking emerald ring which sits on her right hand, a gift we suspect from the man in question. When asked to elaborate slightly, she bit her lip and simply smiled before explaining; “Steve isn’t just Captain America. There’s more to him than a shield. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever met and he makes me unbelievably happy.” The blush spread from her cheeks to her ears “And that’s not down to the Serum or outfit, it’s just who he is. The fact he’s 6ft2, drop dead gorgeous with a smile I’d happily die for is a bonus.”

Steve felt himself grin as he read the words and glanced at the small photo they had framed the paragraph round. It was the shot of them together that had been taken at the Stark Industry’s New Year’s Gala as they danced. His eyes continued to the final part of the article, this one complete with a picture of Katie and Tony. Katie sat at her desk as Tony leaned over, looking at something on the computer screen. 

When asked about the other man in her life, her brother Tony, she smiled again, another genuine smile, the love she has for her elder sibling evident on her face and in her voice.

“I owe everything I have to Tony. He brought me up from the age of seven, gave me absolute, unconditional love and opportunities I know I was extremely fortunate to have. People have a pre-conceived image of what he is like, and sometimes he can play into that, but to me he’s been nothing but loving and supportive, my father and brother rolled into one and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has done and given me. He backed my decision to open SIP from the off and believed in me and has always pushed me to be the best I can be.”

We couldn’t resist another personal question, so we asked her a little cheekily how Tony had reacted to news that she was dating one of his fellow Avengers, who had served alongside their Father Howard in WW2. Hesitating slightly, she flushed before smirking and answering, a grin on her face.

“How he found out wasn’t ideal, but once he realised we were serious, he was fine about it. I think deep down after my last car crash of a relationship, he’s just happy I’m with someone who puts me first.”

“Do they get on?” At that she laughed. “They have a love-hate relationship. In that they hate the fact they love one another. Tony has these ridiculous nicknames for Steve and he can be an absolute nightmare at times, but to be fair Steve’s quite sarcastic himself too but I know full well that they have each other’s six and, even though they would probably deny it, they are quite close and would miss one another if they weren’t around.”

Steve, grudgingly, had to admit she was right. Tony could be a pain in the ass at times, but he would miss the billionaire if he wasn’t there. Underneath all his bravado he knew that he thought the world of his sister and, despite their initial meeting whereby Steve frankly thought the guy was a dick, he’d fast learnt during the Chitauri Battle that underneath that persona he had a heart of gold and was more like his father than he would care to admit. A fact that Steve was even more convinced of having gotten to know him much better on a personal level over the last two years or so.

Whilst the siblings certainly share a lot of attributes, both good looking, tough, hard-working, Katie has a certain softness to her edges and we challenge anyone who spends time in her company not to warm to the youngest Stark. Stark Independent Publishing has, in our opinion, a very bright future ahead of it whilst it is spearheaded by such an astute and shrewd business woman and we wish her all the best.

“What do you think?” Katie watched as Steve read the article, leaning against the wall, nibbling at her thumb, nervous to see his reaction.

Steve jerked his head round and smiled at her. “I think it’s fantastic. The photos are stunning, the article is well written. Are you happy with it?” “Yeah.” she nodded as she walked over to his chair, standing behind it and slipping her arms round his shoulders from behind “They wouldn’t drop the whole So you’re dating Captain America angle though, so our PR department told me to answer a few personal questions to shut them up. Are you ok with it?” Steve smiled and turned side on in his seat, pulling her into his lap. “Seeing as I’m the kindest, gentlest, most caring man you’ve ever met how could I not be?” “I meant every word of that.” She smiled, rubbing her nose against his.

“I know baby.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “Now I need to go or I’m gonna be late.”

Sighing she stood up as he did the same, grabbing a final cinnamon bun from the plate.

“I’ll be back at mine” She informed him as she walked to the door with him, “I have a few calls to do this morning.” “I’ll come over when I’m done.” He smiled. “And maybe we can do something this afternoon?”

“Sounds perfect”

***** Chapter 14

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers smut #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #katie star #chris evans #chris evans characters

[evangelene]

Defense Mechanism

Summary: Everyone deals with life in their own way, sometimes you’re smiling through the pain, other times you’re an ass. Park Jimin is far better at the latter.

This is for the request that my lovesly @g-d0818 sent in to me so long ago!!

“ LET ME REQUEST ARTIST JIMIN AU WITH AN COMPTELE BUTTFACE ATTITUDE OC AND HE DISCOVERS SHES HIS MUSE BUT SHE DOESNT GET IT “

THERE WILL BE ONLY ONE MORE PART TO THIS.

WARNINGS ARE THE USUAL.

Part Two

Jimin couldn't help but stare at you as you practiced up on stage; it wasn't because you were beautiful--you were average, flawed--and it wasn't because you had amazing talent--he'd often told you that you were talentless--and it definitely wasn't because he thought you were worthy of attending the same prestigious university for the arts as him. Rather, Jimin stared at you because he was an artist who strove for perfection and you had a run in your tights.

How the hell was he supposed to sketch what was happening on stage if the subject matter itself wasn't already perfect?

He was an artist, someone who strived for perfect technical abilities--someone who never once created something that wasn't admired by all professors and students for its formal qualities, even if few (practically everyone) thought that his subject matter was boring and lacked originality/ purpose. So, when looking at you, the OCD running through his brain could only focus on that stupid run in your tights, and now he was noticing even more things about you that he hated. It always started like this, he would be doing something and you would be loud even if you never spoke--you would walk into a room and he would feel the compelling desire to point out all your faults. You irritated him in a way that he didn't know was possible.

He ran his pencil across the paper, one of the few from his advanced III painting class that had decided to go to the auditorium during the interpretive dance class in order to sketch out poses and ideas for compositions and models. Once again he was distracted by your lack of care--you weren't even wearing shoes and now your tight-clad feet were blackened because of it. He hated those tights. So much. You would have to toss them, though he knew you wouldn't. You had once told him that it seemed pointless to get rid of something for one small flaw, as if he was a monster for suggesting that you better yourself and your appearance. You're a dancer, how could you be so careless? How are you supposed to create a work of art without an already perfect canvas?

He tried to focus his sketching on other students--better students--those who were put together and cared more about nurturing their talent (and envying Jimin's) instead of putting all of their focus into something that was beyond their range of ability.

Point in case: you who fell suddenly after attempting a mid-air move for the sixth time.

You tumbled to the ground, flopping your feet out in front of you like a toddler as you giggled. The rest of the class only shook their head at you--it wasn't the first time today, or even in the last fifteen minutes--save for Hoseok who ran up to you laughing.

"Y/N! Are you alright?" Instead of helping you up, as your long-time childhood friend, he flipped you up onto his shoulder as a form of punishment, humiliation, and love. "Hold on! Wee-woo, wee-woo! The ambulance is taking you to the infirmary!"

You smashed your fists lightly on Hoseok's back, giggling and kicking even as your cheeks heated. "Hey hey! Put me down! I'm fine! I'm fine!"

Jimin focused on Yuki mid-pirouette, trying to sketch out the way her legs shifted in just the right way--a perfect rendition of the move. And then his eyes went back to his friend, and, by default, to you as Hoseok set you down on the ground and your grin radiated heat up to him. The stage lights did nothing to highlight any of your good points, of which you had one: your smile wasn't entirely unappealing.

"I'm just an idiot, that's all. I'll get that move one day though!!"

Hoseok ruffled your hair. "Hey, you're not an idiot. Just don't break a bone trying to push yourself, okay?" He tilted his head just out of the brightness of one of the stage-lights, squinting to spot where Jimin stood with his easel. "Ah, Jimin--you're still here? Are you getting all that you need?"

Jimin pursed his lips at his paper, peering up at Hoseok. "No, I can't focus on my work with that imbecile here." He shot you a glare that he knew you couldn't see--the lights were too bright up on the stage, but you preferred to practice where you couldn't see the audience; at least that's what Hoseok told him. "Also, tell her to get new tights, it's absolutely disgusting and she already isn't doing herself any favors with her regular appearance."

You cocked your hip out, crossing your arms as you rolled your tongue around your teeth. "Hey Jimin? How about you do me a huge favor and grow another foot so I can at least see the top of your head when you're whining to me? At least then you'd be on the same level of threatening as a teacup poodle."

He glowered at you from behind his pad of paper. "At least I'm talented and proficient in what I do--you can't even complete a basic dance move and you dare to call yourself a dancer?"

You turned to Hoseok, giving him a look that transformed you into a begging puppy--something that irritated him further as if you relied on other's approval that you would never get; at least not from Jimin or any of the girls that fawned after him at the school. He wasn't the university's talented, Prince Park Jimin for nothing.

Hoseok chuckled, patting your shoulder. "Down girl, I know you want to but his fanclub would come after you before you could even get off this stage." Hoseok's eyes drifted out to the doors of the auditorium, "I saw them out there before I came in. For some reason idiot girls are attracted to assholes."

"Hey!" Jimin shouted.

"But you're my asshole friend." Hoseok grinned, giving you one last pat before leaning to whisper in your ear. "Though if you were to fight I'd put a million dollars on you."

"I heard that." Jimin grunted, glaring up at his still-grinning friend. "Who's the asshole now?"

Hoseok shrugged. "I never said I wasn't." He turned back to the other dancers to call them on break, which left you to snatch your water bottle off the side of the stage and go back behind the curtains.

Jimin stared at the empty stage for a brief second before peering down at his drawing pad. His scowl deepened as he ripped the paper from its bindings and tore the sketch to shreds, raining bits of your smile down onto the carpet.

~.~

You met Jimin your freshman year of your collegiate career, he had been there since he was younger due to familial and friendship connections, even if the two of you came in together as part of the incoming freshman class. Hoseok was your friend ever since you were two and your family moved to Seoul, resulting in your fathers becoming close through an array of odd hobbies. Hoseok, being older, was able to gain a deep friendship with six other boys--including Jimin even if he didn't yet go to the university--by the time that you even stepped foot within said school.

The second you tried to sit with Hoseok, every boy besides Jimin greeted you in their own way, he only looked up at you and told you he'd acknowledge you when he decided your talent was worth it. Hoseok had told you that Jimin was the school's prince charming, so it baffled you why they found the asshole in front of you any sort of charming. You chalked it up to them admiring his talent (of which he did have, despite how much he irritated you) which shone out of the shadows of his horrible personality.

The drawing class that the two of you had after sealed your fate as "talentless" and "dirt."

Drawing was required for all students--at least the first level--and you were a dancer, not any sort of other fine arts person. Holding any sort of medium in your hand with the intent to create was not something that was ever intuitive or natural for you. For Jimin, your sad attempt at a stack of boxes was deemed unworthy for the university and he questioned your acceptance every chance he could. Most often, he favored telling you that you belonged at a community college instead of at "a place for starts and stars only"--as if one was better than the other.

Unfortunately for Jimin (and of which Hoseok had kept a secret for his own amusement) you were hotheaded and would shoot bullets of sarcasm and sass back at him each and every time. You were not one to back down, or let yourself feel degraded. Yet, despite his terrible personality, the "prince" of your school remained as such and you became hated and unapproachable by almost everyone in the school.

Guys liked you though, and Hoseok--those that knew that Jimin was a spoiled brat who's art was as one-dimensional as his soul.

"Hoseok." You whined, drawing his name out as you slouched forward on your stool. "Painting is stupid, why is it required? What the hell am I supposed to do with paint as a dancer?" With a pout at your horrible paint job you turned over your shoulder to look up to him. "Maybe I could just cover myself in it and roll around on the floor, then it'd be an interpretive pile of shit just like this class."

"Do you want some glitter to brighten up that pessimism of yours?"

"Glitter is the herpes of the art world; it will never leave me alone."

Hoseok bent over laughing, having to grab onto your shoulders for support which only resulted in him shaking your shoulders. You stared at your "painting" aka the blob of yellow and several angry slashing of red and black that one might call a painting but others might call trash. It was supposed to be a realistic interpretation of a reject sculpture made by a drop-out student, but that sculpture itself was so fucked up and challenging that you hadn't the slightest clue as to why the professor assigned you to paint it.

"Can I just call this work Jimin and then jam the end of my paint brush through the canvas?"

"Now now, murder is not the answer to all of life's questions."

You smacked Hoseok's arm with the paintbrush, splattering his skin with dots of red. "Stupid. It's just the canvas. I'm so freaking sick of painting--it's not my thing."

Hoseok wiped is arm on the back of your neck, causing you to squeal and try to nail him again with the wet brush. "Hey hey." He grabbed your wrists, forcing you to look up at him and rest your head against his chest. "You know, Jimin's actually a really amazing teacher--I'm sure that he could help you out with this project."

You blinked at him, your limbs dangling in his grasp like a ragdoll. "Excuse me, did you say something? You know I have this really important filter in my ears that blocks out all stupid ideas. Since it's you, I probably couldn't hear what you said."

"Y/N." His voice caused all jokes to die on your tongue. "I'm serious here, he's helped a lot of students at this university grow--granted he's still an ass--but he's really good. I think you could use his help."

"Why are you so determined about this?"

"Because, you're full of talent, emotion, ideas, conceptual greatness--but you lack basic technique. Jimin...he has all the technique in the world but what he makes could never be considered art because it's devoid of all emotion. His work is flat; I think that being around you would influence him in a good way."

"Hoseok, he hates me."

He chuckled, dropping your wrists in favor of running his fingers through your hair. "No, if he truly hated you he'd show it differently. I've known him far less than I've known you, but I still know he's a good guy underneath all the layers of idiocy."

"I don't get it. Why? Way more people would like him if he was nicer."

"He's used to being used, it's easier for him to hate than it is to let people in. For him, the entire world is his Sejun."

You froze at the name, stiffening against Hoseok's hands until the older male gently shushed you by wrapping his arms around you. "Sh, sh. It's okay, Y/N. He can't get close to you, remember? As long as I'm around you'll always be safe."

"Can we have a dance break now? Please?" Your voice cracked like a child and Hoseok chuckled softly into your hair.

"Of course, of course. That'll be good for you. You know, get those legs moving and--"

"--the rest will follow." You murmured, grinning up at him with a shaky breath as he helped you off the stool.

~.~

Jimin stared at his work, his hands at his sides. It was something that he would do after every finished piece--just stare at it. It was his way of working through its technical flaws, the ideas that were never present. It was a perfectly rendered still life, next to a perfectly rendered portrait, next to the perfectly rendered image of a wolf, but it was all so flat that he couldn't even bear looking at it. It seemed to jump out at you, everything was 3d in a way that only a realistic technique could accomplish, but it lacked anything other than copying an image before him and overlaying them together. It lacked a movement within it, a personality, a flow--it lacked inspiration. The pieces before him were almost like they were dead, printed out of a computer instead of painted by a person.

"Jimin, your work is beautiful as always, but it lacks a soul. You need to push yourself more--I believe that in order for you to full realize your talents, you need to find that switch inside yourself and flip it. When you find that, I think your work will become genius. A purpose, your work needs a purpose--at least for yourself."

He flung the portrait onto the floor, smashing paint into the tile. "What purpose?" He shouted to the walls, running his fingers through his hair only to leave huge streaks of white and pink. "The point of art is to be good--it's to do everything perfectly. If my purpose is perfection than I've accomplished it!" He threw the still life canvas against the wall of his studio, watching is drag downward and fall into a haphazard mess on the ground. He could only stare at it.

It was empty, even now, even with his vented frustration pressed into the canvas' surface it was still devoid of all soul. "Purpose." He murmured to himself. "I don't have one. I exist to provide for others, I exist for others." The portrait mocked him from the floor. "I exist to be the best at all that I do."

He rubbed at his forehead, closing his eyes for a brief second before going to the sink in his studio to wash the paint from his hair.

~.~

You stood in your dance studio, swiping water bottle off of the floor. Your studio at the college was smaller in comparison to other students. Honestly, you weren't supposed to have one to begin with--you only got it because they said they had a broken down one at the end of the hall near the garbage room that no one wanted; you said you'd take it.

You stared at yourself in the one mirror that the room had--the others broke and had yet to be replaced--just like you. Broke and waiting to be replaced.

"Sejun?" You turned around the corner, resting against the doorframe of your bedroom.

"Ah, Y/N. What the fuck are you wearing?" He looked up from the floor of your hall.

"What?" You stared down at your dress, smoothing out the fabric of your skirt. "Is it bad?"

"You look disgusting, you can see every last thing that's terrible about you. You're fat and horrible."

You stared at him, lips parted as your thin hand shook on the doorframe. It was happening again, you knew it was but you were too slow to stop it, the push and pull that was Sejun. He always sucked you back in, always.

Sejun grinned, pushing up to his feet to curl his arm around your waist and duck down to press his lips against your neck. "But you're mine, and you're sexy as hell. Come to my house, my parents aren't home, you won't have to go out looking like shit--you'll have me and I think you're gorgeous."

"O-okay." You whispered, screwing your eyes shut.

You shook your head to clear your past self from your vision, but she wouldn't go away. It took so long for her to go away, for you to come back--for you to be where you were now. Hoseok, if it weren't for Hoseok--

"You know, the practice rooms work better if you actually practice dancing in them."

You spun around to spot Jimin in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at you.

"The point of them is that they're supposed to be isolated. What are you doing here? I thought everyone left for the day."

"I needed a break from my work and went for a walk. Found you staring at yourself in the mirror for the past five minutes, don't know why or who would want to look at you--not with all that cellulite."

You snorted, your hands shaking on the bottle before you. "Yeah? The same way I don't want to look at you?"

Jimin didn't say anything for a while; he just stared at you until finally he seemed satisfied enough to grace you with his words. "Your comebacks don't have any bite today. Dance."

You stared at him, your brow furrowed. "What? You said that I couldn't. You said...you said I--"

Jimin sighed, stepping deeper into the practice room only to slide down the wall and sit on the floor. "I say a lot of things; you've never taken them seriously before. So show me, Y/N. Show me how talentless you are."

Your hands steadied and you grinned at the tile on the ground, shaking your head. "I'll show you just how damn talented I am you fucking asshole."

Jimin smirked, one of his eyebrows twitching up. "There she is." He sat back, his head resting against the wall. "Well, if you've got something to prove then show me."

And you did. As he sat there and watched you, he could see every damn mistake of yours, every fuck up and every trip. You were on the floor, your back arching off the ground only for you to lift up as if your entire body was weightless. Your movements, though sloppy, were languid and smooth as fresh willow charcoal on a brand new sheet of paper. You would have a hiccup, a slip that you would only fall and roll with--an accident that you made purposeful.

He'd seen better dancers, people whose body obeyed the rules of the art form of dance; Hoseok was one of them, he was technically flawless. In comparison to him, your dance was a blubbering mess.

But you, the color of your skin under the lights of the room, the sweat at the nape of your neck--all of these were details he wanted to draw, color, and paint even if he thought you were less than dirt. His hands itched with the need to capture your likeness on paper.

You turned and stared at him, finishing your dance before he even knew what was happening. Your chest was heaving, sweating, and you were staring so blankly that he didn't know what to do or say for a second.

But your eyes were clear now; they weren't fogged over like they were when he first entered, though bits of that glaze still shimmered behind your eyes.

"Well?" You whispered. "How was that?"

Jimin leaned forward, crossing his legs. "Terrible." He grinned. "Do it again."

~.~

"Hoseok."

The older man turned around to face Jimin jogging down the hall after him, it was the fastest he'd ever seen the boy move. "What's up, Jimin? Where're you off to?"

Jimin stared at him, falling in line with Hoseok's steps. "Towards the cafeteria. I thought it'd be best to walk with you and avoid Soonmi."

"Ahh, that girl that you agreed to take out to coffee once."

"Yep, that'd be her."

"She's still chasing you?" Hoseok chuckled. "Can't say you're not popular with females, don't know why though." Jimin shot him a glare but Hoseok just laughed. "You look like you want something. What do you want to ask me?"

Jimin cocked his head. "How did you know?"

"You have this look when you want something, you get fiddly." Hoseok nodded to Jimin's hands on the strap to his shoulder-bag. "So let me guess...you want help with your inspiration again."

"No--"

"--then maybe you want money? Food? Me to bring you dinner tonight so you could stay late?"

"I--"

"Y/N. You want to know about Y/N?"

Jimin shrugged, but something in him flipped at the sound of your name and suddenly he wanted to find you and torment you. "I saw her acting weird yesterday. She was in her practice room, just standing in front of a mirror, staring."

Hoseok sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Ah, that was probably my fault. I brought up something I shouldn't have. Did she look like she needed help? Is she okay? What'd she look like when you left?"

"Fine."

Hoseok's stare burned into the side of Jimin's face. "Fine? What do you mean by fine? There's no way she'd be fine after that. Did you go in? Did you say anything to her? What did she look like exactly?"

"Fine. She was smiling; she even was dancing for me."

"For you?"

Jimin shrugged. "I asked her to and she did." He shook his head. "Wait, why are we talking about this? What was up with that yesterday--why was she like that?"

Hoseok shook his head. "People use you for your talent--"

"It's more than that and you know it--"

Hoseok's stare was sharp, and it shut Jimin up for once. "Yes." He hissed. "It's more, you are used, women only want you for the bragging rights and they manipulate their lives to be in yours. But you have never cared about those women, you have never long-term dated those women, you--"

"What's his name?" Jimin murmured. "Does he go to this school?"

Hoseok sighed, everything in him going slack with exhaustion and annoyance at himself for bringing the man to your attention again. "His name is Sejun, and yes. But as long as I'm around he doesn't go near her."

"But you can't always be around."

Hoseok stabbed the younger male with his eyes. "Yes, I know that--but obviously you two don't get along so I'll have to rely on Taehyung or Jungkook to take care of her when I graduate."

"You have that little faith in her ability to protect herself?"

"You saw her in her practice room, right?" Hoseok flit his gaze across Jimin's face, searching. "The kind of damage that this guy inflicted, it lingers and haunts. You of all people should know that."

~.~

Your painting was at least in the shape of something now, even though the shape of the abstract sculpture you were assigned was fucking stupid. You were thinking that maybe the sculpture was supposed to be a whale, or maybe an abyss of death with spots--either way, there was somehow some yellow on it but you don't know where it came into play. All you knew was that your professor told you there was yellow in the bottom highlight which resulted in you, and your fucking terrible painting skills, covering nearly the entire canvas in fresh-out-the-tube neon yellow.

Luckily it was just you all alone in your misery in the communal painting room--most others that were good actually got studios but obviously there was no point for you.

"I'm hopeless." You murmured, dropping your head forward in shame only to stupidly stick your forehead directly into a patch of fresh, yellow paint. You could only curse, knocking over your brushes and your water cup in an attempt to grab your painting towel. "Fuck!" You shouted, angrily dropping to your knees which only resulted in pain instead of relieving frustration. It wasn't surprising, but you were suddenly hating yourself for your ability to do everything but be successful in a studio environment. Even when you tried to clean you only created huge streaks of muddy color on the ground. You curled your back, pressing your already fucked up forehead to the equally as fucked up floor until you were a kneeling ball of pathetic.

Then you heard the shoes and lifted your chin just enough to see a pair of nice dress shoes that you knew could only belong to one person.

"What do you want, Jimin?" You grunted to the floor. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Because sobbing on the floor is busy."

You jolted up into a sitting position, glaring at him. "I'm not crying, I'm just cleaning up my mess."

"With your forehead?" He arched one eyebrow, smirking in a way that made you want to take your paint covered hands and slather them all over his nice shoes. You didn't, but the temptation had you curling your fist on your apron clad thighs.  

"Fuck off."

Jimin looked up to your painting, "it's hideous, you know that?"

"So are you." You grumbled under your breath, pushing yourself up to your feet. "I never claimed to be a fantastic artist." You turned your back on him, walking towards the sink to clean the brushes in your hands. "I'm just me--I'm just L/N, Y/N. I am who I've always been and who I'll always be. I can't paint, I can't draw--go ahead. I know you want to say it, so just say it. I suck."

"You're not who you've always been. We change, people change. You can't be the same."

You spun around one of your hands still holding your brushes in the running water of the sink. "Shut up, you don't know me. You don't. I am who I am. Just fucking say what you want to--just say I'm talentless and go and be on your way, okay? I'm really, really not in the mood."

Jimin could only stare at you, at the patch of mixed color on your forehead, at the strange pose you gave him that was half focused on cleaning while the other was worn out and hopeless. It was a pose that was half strength, half weakness. His eyes flit to your canvas instead of focusing on you, yet he could only see your face in the swaths of color, the imprint of your forehead in the thick coating of oil paint.

"Do the highlights last. No matter what the professor says, do them last." His voice was soft, gentler than normal.

"What?" You murmured, your eyes searching his face for more bullshit.

"The highlights--you should do them last. You need to start with the basic color, and then move to the shadows. The highlights that you're trying to do right now are small and are detail work. While they are important, you need to do them last." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Though, I doubt even with that information it will turn out amazing, but at least it will save me from ever looking at that eyesore again."

Before you could say anything more he turned and left the painting studio, speed walking then, when he was far enough away, running to his own studio to paint.

~.~

Oil paint, as you quickly found out, had incredible staining power; even though you scrubbed at it for a good half hour there still remained the residual mark of the patch of yellow on your forehead--as well as a section of hair dyed an incredibly ugly red. You didn't think it was possible for red to be ugly until you mixed that particular color and put it on your canvas in the exact same, fucking spot that you would then, later on, bash your forehead into.

Hoseok grinned down at you, pinching your cheeks. "You're supposed to get paint on the canvas, not yourself." He chuckled, his hands sliding up to brush your hair off your forehead in order to better assess the damage. "You look like you got a horrible disease."

You curled your lip at him, mocking his stupid smile as best you could without laughing--that lasted all of five seconds. "Are you telling me a neon-yellow forehead isn't fashionable?"

Jimin turned the corner at that moment, and though Hoseok's gaze lifted and hit the side of his face, Jimin couldn't pry his eyes away from the sight of Hoseok's hand on your forehead. He was frozen, only able to watch you grin up at his friend, only able to watch his friend's hand on your forehead, only be able to imagine that maybe your skin was warm and that smile could be nice if it hit his face just right. But you were and have only ever given Hoseok a look like that.

Why did that matter to him?

Jimin noted the sudden warmth in your cheeks as compared to a few nights ago.

"Jimin," Hoseok called out, breaking the younger out of his trance, "how's your project coming along?"

You turned around to face Jimin, your expression dropping from that yellow-hazed smile to one that was meant for other people, dropping even further into the smile-grimace that you only ever gave Jimin.

"Perfect. As always." He started past the two of you, brushing his friend's shoulder. "You should cover that up with makeup, Y/N. You're already hard to look at, and now that mark makes it impossible." He didn't glance back at you; instead he only kept plowing forward with his hands tight on his shoulder-bag strap.

~.~

He stood back from his two paintings, judging his own work with a critical eye. They stared back at him, the images something that he never thought that he would ever paint in his life--but there you were.

One was a sketchy version of that night in the painting room; an image of you from below, staring up at him with a patch of paint on your forehead, your fingers reaching for fallen brushes. The other was an equally as sketched out version of your face in profile as a hand without a body pushed your hair off your forehead. A bright yellow spot seared onto your skin and bathed the rest of the image in a yellow light with the warmth of your smile.

"Jimin."  His professor stood next to him, letting out a low whistle after five minutes of silence. She could only stare at the images. "Jimin, these are beautiful."

"But still lacking, right?" He hated the way his voice became desperate. "There's no soul--right?"

Please.

She snorted, shaking her head. "No, Jimin--no. These...these are what I've been trying to push you to make all semester; they are masterpieces. Just look at them. They're not perfect renderings; they're shaky, powerful, and full of emotion and life. This is definitely a series I could see you expanding upon--two sides of the same coin."

Jimin was frozen in place, every word from her mouth another nail in his coffin.

"I love the touches of color on her--those patches of paint on her skin. It tells such a story--this girl, you can tell who she is, what motivates her, you can see the life in this person. It isn't just a perfect portrait of how we want to be depicted, it's life itself. She is so charming. Jimin, the way you portrayed her, these show sides of you that I didn't know you were capable of displaying in your work." She patted his shoulder, "Congrats."

Jimin didn't know how long he stood there in front of his work; he didn't even remember when his professor left. He was stuck in shock, his feet so solid in the ground that he didn't know what else to do with himself.

Then, he heard his studio door open.

He spun around, his heart pounding at the thought that it would be you walking in--at the thought that you would see his work, that you would--

It was a face he didn't recognize.

A male who jerked his chin up as a hello.

"Who the hell are you?" Jimin snapped, his eyes narrowing on the male. "This is a private studio, knock first and then I'll decide whether or not I should let you in. Get out."

The guy chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with a cocky grin on his face. Jimin felt the sudden urge to slap the shit out him. "You paint that?"

"It's in my studio, just like you--except for I didn't paint you."

"That's mine." He jerked his chin towards the canvas, completely unafraid and ignoring Jimin's tangible anger. "I thought I should let you know, especially since you've been crossing boundaries you shouldn't." The guy rolled his tongue around his teeth, "You're Hoseok's friend, aren't you?"

Jimin's teeth ground in his jaw. "Excuse you? I thought that I asked you a question. Who the fuck are you?"

He relaxed against the doorframe, settling himself in for a long ride his face so smug and idiotic that Jimin would have loved to have his sharp palette knife in his hand. "I'm Sejun, and that girl you drew--that girl you've been eyeballing, Y/N? That girl is mine."

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